Poet Paul S. Flores (left) created the show “We Have Iré,” which plays at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts on Friday to Sunday, May 10-12. Photo: Liz Hafalia, The Chronicle

Spanish flowed into English, then back again among cast, crew and creative team at a recent rehearsal for “We Have Iré” at Mission Cultural Center, a “cambiando aquí” seguing seamlessly into “and the reason for that is … .”

Then, over irresistibly danceable beats by DJ Leydis, pianist Javi Santiago picked out a sprightly, coursing melody, the digital and analog sounds commingling as if each instrument had been designed specifically for the other.

A “both/and” aesthetic is at the heart of Paul S. Flores’ show, which traces his own family’s immigration narrative and those of his Afro-Cuban collaborators. That fusion manifests most obviously in the sheer diversity of art forms represented in the multidisciplinary piece, which premieres Friday-Sunday, May 10-12, at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts.

But the fusion also manifests in the show’s structure. Flores is adamant that the show is “not about a Cuban exile story. This isn’t about nostalgic Cuba from 1959. This is not any of the majority of the Cuban narratives that get told in American theater about Cuba.”

It’s also not Miami-centric. Not about hating Fidel Castro. Rather, in four monologues, “We Have Iré” traces four transnational experiences — “literally living, breathing, eating, having a life in multiple countries.”

Artists Julianna Cressman and Delvis Friñón combine on several dance sequences in the show. Photo: Liz Hafalia, The Chronicle

Whatever Flores is feeling — delight or frustration over how a scene goes — he honors it fully, and it takes up a whole room. When he’s onstage, as his avatar character, Christian, containing and sculpting all that capacity for emotion into the action of the moment, the result is electric, even just in rehearsal.

“Visiting your family in another country is like a homecoming and an out-of-body experience all in one” goes one of Flores’ lines in the show. Accompanying dance sequences, performed by Delvis Friñón and Julianna Cressman, conjure bobbing across journeys on waves, feet carving out lines on a sandy shore. “This is what it feels like to be called,” Flores’ character says later. “This is what it feels like to be claimed.”

Flores first went to Cuba in 1995. It was the first time anyone in his American family had been back since 1968. He estimates he has been there a dozen times.

“We hear a lot of stories about immigrants,” Flores says after rehearsal. “You hear about the people who are being persecuted in the caravans in Central America. You hear stories about people being separated from their parents. I’ve written stories like that, too.”

His “Pilgrim Street,” produced by Youth Speaks at Z Space last year, is a prime example; set in Stockton, it followed families who have been separated by ICE, by the foster system, by the school-to-prison pipeline.

This time, Flores wanted to tell a different story about immigrants in the Bay Area — “one that celebrates their success,” one filled with the “exuberance with life when you bust your ass to be good at something and you accomplish your goals.”

His collaborators on “We Have Iré” exemplify that narrative. Leydis went from almost getting lost at sea fleeing from Cuba to DJing at the White House in 2016 for President Obama. Terry has a Grammy nomination and has taught at Stanford and Harvard. Alayo became a dancer with Robert Moses’ Kin — all while “he could barely speak English,” Flores says — and now brings his American salsa students to Cuba while also helping to bring Afro-Cuban dancers to the U.S.

Whatever pictures you harbor in your head about immigrants to the U.S., Flores says, “these folks prove them very different. First of all, they’re not Mexican or Central American. They’re black. They’re Cuban. They’re exceptionally skilled artists. You just don’t put those together often. I want to tell that story.”

Flores defines that success in terms of iré, a Yoruban concept that Flores discovered as part of his own spiritual journey and that helps give the show its title.

“When you are living a balanced life, when you are doing what you’re supposed to be doing, when you’re keeping your word, when you’re eating right, when you’re helping people out, you get gifts from the universe. The universe helps you.” That’s iré. “When you are not living right, when you are not being humble or acting with integrity, you fall into osogbo, which means you’re out of balance with your destiny and who you’re supposed to be.”

You can’t stay in iré forever, he says, “because you start expecting it. You get a little lazy. You start treating people a little arrogantly. You fall out of balance.” You then have to work to get back into it. In claiming iré, with the title, “we’re trying to give our art as an example of what a blessing looks like.”